


bring end to the world

by Voidromeda



Category: Starfighter (Comic), Starfighter Eclipse
Genre: Alternate Universe, End of the World, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:21:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22399264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voidromeda/pseuds/Voidromeda
Summary: Breatheit will be your last one.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	bring end to the world

**Author's Note:**

> I'm extremely stressed, so I wrote this.

The world is ending, and it is only in the hands of beauty that no one can notice it – Colterons whimper and run, from weapons weaker than theirs and armies far, far smaller. They make beelines towards their own colonies to give love and support to their families, the Colterons being a race of insectoid creatures who are far more emotional than humanoids give them credit for – humans especially. A pointless, senseless war over misunderstandings and miscommunications, yet no one dares to correct that misconception and mistake. Antennas rub against each other and spindly, hairy arms drop weapons to instead focus on the familiarity of love and family as the world draws its last breaths.

Humanoids cannot sense it, but the Colterons can – they always have been able to, sensitive to the many explosions that occur in space. Over and over, stars die and are reborn – a cycle of reincarnation that they believe in, but have yet to see for themselves. They hold out hope that one day, a Colteron shall be reborn anew and come to them as a Messiah to lead them away from the ceaseless battleground that the galaxy has become.

This explosion is unfamiliar, foreign. Their bodies tremble with the upcoming force of it as it devours its way through the cosmos, swallowing up planets and stars. They are a long ways away, but no one knows how long it is going to take before they too are eaten up by the blast and reduced to nothingness, atoms disintegrating within the explosion. Stars cannot escape it as it extends out farther and farther, and yet it is not the sun that dies. It burns bright, giving heat to many and depriving many others of it. Frozen is their home planet, far from the sun, but they can feel it heating up as Doomsday comes closer and closer.

Humanoids cannot understand their gurgling clicks and the slap of their vestigial wings, meaning that their enemies cannot prepare their final goodbyes and apologies for any grievances.

They know the world will end. They see the sun from a distance, glowing beautifully – all life arises from the sun, even its weakest rays give birth to bountiful thorns and prickly fruit, letting the Colterons eat and feast. Now, however, they fast – food is pointless when the end is coming, drink is unnecessary. They purge wastes from their bodies and cleanse themselves and huddle together. They stay hidden away from the humanoids, and other insectoids eventually send to them departing messages. Their signals cut out as the explosion devours them. Colonies huddle together and listen, closely, for the approaching end.

Even humanoids deserve to know what is going on. To understand their speech is far behind their brain capacity, and they can only watch helplessly as all other planets are devoured. Earth shall be the last, and Earth will have no allies to cry to them and mourn. They know well they will not live long. They stare up at murky sky through small holes parading as windows, and close their eyes as the temperature rises. Sleep is difficult with the stifling, suffocating pressure.

They hope to reincarnate, like the stars do.

* * *

“What happened?” Selene asks no one, fingers hovering near their radar and brows furrowing in his confusion. All the other Navigators look over to him with the same quizzical expression. “The Colterons… simply just… just… stopped? Why?”

Phobos exhales heavily, face twisting up far too much to appear agitated. “Why are you asking us?” he hisses out, “none of us have any clue what’s going on besides the fact that we got some sort of distress signal from the Colterons. We can’t decode it, but it was sent to _us_ and it doesn’t seem to be trying to alert to any other armies. None of them have come in days. What’s going on here? What’s happening? Did they just… give up on a winning war?”

“Have you sent the details to Ethos yet?” Porthos asks as he looks over the file, “he said he was working on the far more complex iterations of the Colteron language. This doesn’t match any of our current translation software, so we have to send it to him for manual translation.”

“Tch.” Phobos bows his head, then lifts it up to run a hand through his hair. “Send it to him,” he barks out, “none of us can figure it out, not even Abel.”

Abel bows his head down, skin going even paler to the point of a sickly pallor – Selene gazes upon him then looks up and over to the other two. “Were you able to at least gather anything about the distress signal? And why would they send it to us? I just… I just can’t understand that.”

“Again, why are you asking us?” Phobos almost barks out, his teeth gritting together while fingers tremble around his tablet. “The only thing we got from it, with our limited resource, was, ‘please, humanoids’ and nothing else.”

Nothing else continues after that. Phobos doesn’t dignify Selene with further explanations and Porthos simply goes back to his own work in trying to decode and understand some sort of bizarre, laser tech that the Colterons are using. Selene looks down at his own station, at the empty radar, and makes the scan range wider even if it means it will take longer to calibrate. Ethos is busy trying to further the translation tech on the entire other side of the room, meaning he doesn’t hear what they all have to say.

The linguistics team is working harder than ever, trying to understand the many insectoid languages present. Selene hopes that they will be able to shed light on why it is that the Colterons suddenly retreat and leave them be for days on end.

* * *

Though the last humanoids shall remember them as brutes, Colterons love poetry – they have many themselves, but they adore the writings of other insectoids far more. The life of Colterons, compared to theirs, is simpler – the conditions of many other insectoids are – were – harsh, rougher, and brutal. The explosion and end of the world takes them all away, yet they still live in on fleeting, final memories to the Colteron as poets and songwriters – more than once does a Colteron ache at the works of their insectoid brethren as they write tales of their tragedies.

To the humanoids the insectoids are nothing but filth, rancid brutes that fight and kill. To the insectoids, the humanoids are beautiful yet dangerous – simple bodies yet elegant genetic design, complex inner-workings that the Colterons cannot reflect. Still they find beauty in the humanoids and other insectoids. Still, _still_ they think of victorious and triumphant songs and poems while the heat on their planet worsens. Plants and livestock die, even as the Colterons try to make their final lives as easy and as luxurious as possible.

Nothing can save them. The Colterons body let them not truly cry, but still they attempt to weep over lives lost. Their allies and foes are all one and the same as the explosion engulfs them all.

Death does not discriminate.

* * *

Moons far from human vision disintegrate and die, following after their planets. The sun burns on, untouched and unburdened by the destruction around it. Planets far way from the Earth reduce down to nothing, leaving behind not even dust or debris – blackness follows the wake of the growing explosion. Stars disappear within the blast and do not re-emerge, their deaths producing nothing but space.

Obliviously, the crew members on the Alliance continue to work, unaware of the end of the world. Interpersonal drama continues, tensions rise, and the universe around them collapses in on itself. There is not even a wound to signify what is to happen, nothing more than just vast, vast blackness. The stars do not shine, meteors do not float aimlessly, and planets of all kinds no longer inhabit the galaxy. Soon, the humans will notice that.

A few weeks without a Colteron attack passes, and Selene stares at the radar pick up meteors far away only to widen his eyes when he watches them simply disappear out of existence. He tries to tell others of it, but they are too busy with their own projects to care – and it is but a meteor disappearing, it may be nothing more than interactions that they cannot see. He knows not why it causes him to panic. The growing distress on Ethos’ expression may be one factor to his unease. The lack of Colterons the other.

The Alliance never feels more silent than it does now.

* * *

“I decoded it.” Ethos says in a meeting, his voice hollow and his eyes wide. His heart beats, wild, against his chest. Keeler takes in the way sweat drenches his body, how his hands keep nearly dropping the tablet, and he feels the telltale twist in his heart. He places a hand on his chest and tries to breathe, knowing better than to let weakness show when all they need is a leader as strong as the mountains.

With his hands on the table he slowly rises and looks above Ethos. “Then, why don’t you tlel us what you have found, Ethos? Do you have any inkling as to why the Colterons may have retreated?”

Ethos swallows, looks over to the science team who all share the same grim expressions, and then over to the Fighters with engineering skills. He swallows once, twice, then breathes out shakily. “The science team has… has speculated for a while that the Colterons have the ability to tell when things are going to explode, which is why they’ve always been able to avoid any explosives we sent their way during a fight. We were able to figure this out with the help of the Fighters who volunteered to set off explosives in a safe area to test a simulation the scientists ran.

“And… and this distress message… no, this warning seals it.” everyone tenses up. Murmurings arise at the mention of warning, and Keeler is on immediate alert. He opens his mouth to further question Ethos, but he beats Keeler to the punch and keeps going, “there is an explosion happening – an explosion that… that’s destroying all other planets. If we were to send one of the drones out, we’d ‘see’ it ‘firsthand’. The… the Colterons were trying to tell us to say goodbye to our families.

“Earth is going to be the last to go.”

Collective gasps and an eruption breaks out into the meeting room. Understandable panic fills the air and Keeler’s heart stops. The news nearly sends him keeling over.

“Ethos… is this – is this true?” Keeler asks. Ethos just looks away, hiding glossy eyes. Abel scoots closer to him and wraps his arms around him, holding Ethos close as he begins to cry. He relays the message to Cook and Bering, both of whom immediately agree to send a drone out. The Fighters get one ready and send it out to the coordinates that Ethos specifies after he calms down, though Abel still comes with him to help keep him soothed.

They witness the drone’s final moments through their camera before it all cuts to static. Cook begins to swear, curse, and yell – his screams echo throughout the hallways of the silent ship. He shrieks and wails, his voice keeping the despondent company – Fighters break down their bravado and curl into each other, some within secrecy to cry and accept the end of the world. Some Navigators hole themselves in their bunks and hide away there, refusing to do their duties when it is now seen as so pointless. Others work to keep their head above the ground. White and black blend together as they march onto their funeral, clashing only when nihilists celebrate their lives for a day.

Silence rings as loud as a church bell. Keeler is not a religious man, but tomorrow – days before the end of the world – he may be. Encke stays with him for the rest of their final moments together. Their only companion is Cook’s horrified screeches, endless and forming their own cacophony where quietude reigns supreme.

Yet

even a man

as proud as Cook

needs to Breathe –

**Author's Note:**

> !  
>  **references to video game spoiler**  
> ! hover over text for story inspiration


End file.
